


You're Not Alone

by Eunoialy



Category: Voltron legendary defenders
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sad lance, bonding moment, sad keith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:38:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11563839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eunoialy/pseuds/Eunoialy
Summary: Why did he do this? It only added to the guilt that had built up around him. He felt selfish, pathetic, useless.The pain didn't seem to get rid of those feelings, but at least he wasn't driving himself to madness. Sometimes, it felt like that was the only thing keeping him alive.





	You're Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I love Klance and I live for angst, but I guess I should give you a little fluff too!
> 
> Feedback is appreciated~!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Silence. It filled his room, but not his mind. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, each more depreciating than the last. How could he let himself go like this? Voltron would never be able to form if he didn't get a grip on his emotions.

But he couldn't. He tried, really he did. But his chest still ached and weighed him down more each day. The hurt that had grown from years of loneliness and abuse had finally reached its max. 

"Useless... stupid... weak..." He whispered to himself, "Pathetic... expendable... nothing..." Each word left a bitter taste in his mouth, vision clouded with tears he couldn't seem to shed. Soft beads of crimson trickled down, dripping into the strange sink before him. They made his pale skin look even lighter.

The sting of cold metal made him hiss, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. It was all he could do to keep himself from falling apart completely. 

He'd already decided long ago that they couldn't know. He knew they'd be angry, upset with him for being so selfishly destructive to their team bond like that. 

Taking a deep breath, Keith glanced up. The expression on his face was all too familiar to him, though his team had never seen it. His eyes were puffed and red, glistening with tears. A bit of blood had been smeared on his cheek, when he didn't know, and he moved to wipe it away with unsteady hands. His eyes were dulled, as if he'd died long ago but his body refused to stop working. He supposed that was probably accurate.

The silence was interrupted when Keith turned the sink on, letting the cool water wash away the red along his arms. He'd already come up with a story for the bandages he'd begun to wrap himself in; training accident that lead to ugly scars he'd rather keep hidden. Given the amount of time he spent training, and another scar on his calf that actually _was_ from training, he figured they'd probably believe that. 

Another soft hiss passed between his purses lips. The water made it hurt more, by that he really minded. The pain kept him from digging too deep into his own brain. 

"Keith?"

The voice startled him. His heart raced, and he jumped. Sudden, crushing guilt hung over him as he scrambled to put the supplies away and slip his jacket on. Why did he feel guilty? He wasn't harming anyone but himself, yet he felt like he'd just murdered a puppy. 

He gripped his arm, sending a spasm of pain rippling through his arm to bring him back to reality. "What do you want?" He called through gritted teeth, standing just outside the doorway to his private bathroom. His bedroom door was closed- locked even. At least, he hopes it was locked. Though the lights were off, there was still a soft glow to the room around him. 

"Hunk made dinner, get you and your mullet down there already!"

Oh, it was Lance. Keith groaned, he didn't want to deal with someone as overly hyper and happy as Lance right then. He didn't think his brain could handle it. "Yeah, yeah," He called. He tried to sound normal, but each second the conversation lasted felt like an eternity longer than it needed to be. "I'll be there in a minute. Gotta finish, uh..." Frantic purple eyes searched the room for an excuse to get Lance to leave him alone. "Cleaning."

There was a pause, then he heard laughter. "Keith, cleaning? C'mon, you're not just saying that 'cause you don't want to walk with me, are you?" Lance's voice held a note of amusement and Keith would have been angry if he wasn't already so emotionally exhausted. 

"Yeah, actually, that was the plan." He grumbled, too tired to fight the boy. His body ached and his arms stung and he just wanted to go to bed. It had been an exhausting day of training and pretending to enjoy 'team bonding'. 

Something like an offended gasp came from the closed door, Lance's shadow shifting in the light that came from around the edges. "That hurts, mullet." Lance said, mock sadness in his voice. Keith moaned, he couldn't deal with that right then. He didn't have any energy left for pretending anymore. "Whatever, Lance. I'm not hungry."

There was a pause, the silence slowly returning. Maybe Lance left. Keith's heart clenched painfully, because he didn't really _want_ to be alone, and he had secretly hoped that maybe Lance had caught on to the tiredness he couldn't keep from his voice. It was selfish, he knew, and he felt horrible for wanting Lance to find out. But he also knew he was in a downward spiral he couldn't pull himself out of, he needed someone to help pull him out.

"Are you ok, buddy?" The question made Keith hold his breath. He didn't want to lie, but he also didn't want to tell him the truth. "You've been skipping an awful lot of meals. You sick or something?"

"No, I just- I can't-" He couldn't decide on what he should say, a million different excuses ran through his head. Which one would Lance believe? "Not right now, Lance, please." He decided he was too tired to put any thought into a good excuse and moved to flop on his bed. Pain shot through his arms at the motion, but it was a dull pain that he didn't really mind. 

Keith shut out the rest of the world. He didn't hear whatever stupid thing it was that Lance said after that, and he didn't notice his door opening. He just lay there, one arm hanging over the bed. His body was in a strange position that looked almost messy, and a soft pain pulsated from his arms to the rest of his body. It helped keep him grounded. It helped to keep his mind from floating away into uncharted territories of self-hate and doubts.

He didn't notice when Lance approached. He didn't notice the hand on his shoulder or the soft words filling his ears. Darkened purple hues simply stared blankly at the wall on the opposite side of the room. It was such an odd sensation, one he hadn't experienced. It felt like he was floating, but at the same time, he felt grounded in the pain. 

"Are you sure you aren't sick? You look really pale, buddy." 

Keith's eyes lagged as they moved to Lance. He sat on the edge of Keith's bed, head tilted as concern flooded his perfect blue eyes. Keith found himself wishing he could be like Lance. Wishing he could cheer people up the way Lance did, or wishing he could save people the way Lance did. He wished he could make people laugh and smile and feel a little less alone in the vast space they'd been forced to occupy. But he couldn't, because he wasn't useful like Lance was. "I'm fine, Lance. Go eat dinner." His words were a little sluggish, and they sounded emptier than he'd intended. But he was just _so god damned tired_ and he couldn't mask it anymore. 

"Keith." Lance called his name sternly, eyes hardening as he looked to him. "What's wrong?"

Keith let out a soft grunt. He didn't want to have that conversation. Not at that moment, anyway. So he just raised a hand and waved it lazily as if to say, 'I'm fine, you can go away now.'. But Lance wasn't having any of Keith's clear avoidance. He grabbed Keith's hand before it could fall back down and tugged. Even that action made a small surge of stinging pain down his freshly injured arm, and he hissed into his pillow. 

That worried Lance, it was clear by the way he hesitated. Keith couldn't see his face due to the way he was laying, but he could guess that there was concern in his eyes. His body tensed when Lance tried again to make him sit up. "Come on Keith. I know something's wrong. Is your mullet not soft enough?"

The red paladin let out another grunt, this one holding a tint of amusement. It made his heart flutter, something that would have startled him if he wasn't so drained. "Did you scrap your elbows when you crawled out of hell?" This time, Keith laughed. It was a soft, almost bitter sound, but it made Lance smile nonetheless. 

"Something like that." He said, giving the blue paladin a soft smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes. He yawned, squishing his cheek back into his pillow. He felt a little lighter, and he was grateful to Lance for taking away a little bit of the sadness he was carrying. He let his eyes flutter closed. "Except I crawled _into_ hell." He'd spoken so quietly he didn't think Lance could hear him, but he did. 

"What do you mean?" Lance questioned. His eyebrows furrowed in concern and he moved to place his hand on Keith's back. He'd comforted many sad children in his life, having so many siblings pretty much made it a necessity to know how. So he began to run gentle circles into the fabric under Keith's jacket. 

"Nothing." Keith said, voice breathless. "Doesn't matter. You can go, I just want to sleep anyway." He didn't move to stop Lance from rubbing his back though, and he didn't do anything to make him leave. He secretly liked the way Lance was trying to make him feel better. It was nice to know he cared enough to try, at least.

After a moment, Lance drew his hand back, and Keith found he was a little disappointed. Of course, he didn't say anything as Lance's weight left his bed. He didn't call out to him when he heard the shuffling of feet. His chest constricted though. His heart weighed down again and his head began to fill with more doubt then he could handle. But then, like they were never there to begin with, his mind cleared and he realized someone had pulled the blanket from underneath him. The weight was back, this time closer. He felt someone cover him with his blanket, then he felt a breath on his neck. 

"Lance...?"

"Shh. If you're not going to tell me what's wrong then I'm going to stay here and wait for you to tell me in your sleep."

"I don't talk in my sleep, Lance."

He felt Lance shrug behind him and scooted over to make more room, but his jacket was caught under Lance's elbow. Growling lightly, he tugged at it. "Lance get off." 

"Why are you even wearing your jacket in bed?" Lance questioned, sighing as he lifted his arm. And of course, upon remembering the bandages hat covered his forearms, he panicked. Yet again, he was too tired to come up with an excuse. "Well, I- because- I'm just-"

Now that he was facing Lance, eyes wide with fear, he could see the sadness behind ocean blue. He saw the knowing glint and the sad, shaky smile. How Lance had figured out, he didn't know. "Lance..."

"I know." Lance said, voice a little shaky. "I saw them when I grabbed your hand." He continued, taking Keith's hand once again. Keith watched silently as Lance pulled back his sleeve, examining the white around his arm. His eyes held a sadness Keith didn't think Lance's happy-go-lucky personality would allow, and he hated being the reason for it. "You don't have to do this to yourself, Keith." Lance's broken whisper only made him feel guiltier.

"It was a training accident. I didn't mean to-"

"Don't give me that bullshit, Keith." The harsh tone of his voice made Keith curl back. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to melt away into the blankets and never be seen again. Lance seemed to be battling within himself, anger and sadness going head to head to be the dominant emotion on his face. After a few quiet minutes of Keith watching Lance struggle to control himself, he spoke out in a soft voice as if he were afraid someone else might hear. 

"How did you know...?" He questioned. He was genuinely curious. Lance was the last person he'd expected to catch on like that. He was such a happy boy, how would he know what the bandages and detached attitude meant?

Keith was surprised to find that Lance held a bitter smile. He pulled his own sleeve back, and Keith could see the caramel skin of his arm. What shocked him, though, were the lines of white that ran along his wrist. Some were thicker than others, and all of them were horizontal. They looked old, none were fresh. He could feel his eyes burn with tears again, not that he was about to let them fall. It made him feel sick. Lance, the one person he could always count on to be the anchor to happiness, was just as broken as he was. 

"Fuck, Lance..." He croaked, voice shaking. He suddenly felt guilty for not noticing Lance's own struggle. He selfish for being so focused on his own worthlessness that he didn't see Lance wasn't as happy as he pretended to be. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, idiot." Lance said, "Just... you're stronger than this, Keith. You're probably the strongest person I know." He took a moment to debate his words. "Aside from Shiro, of course. Have you seen that dudes muscles?" That elicited a short laugh from the red paladin. His heart skipped a beat, a feeling he couldn't quite place settling there. Suddenly, he was pulled forward, into Lance's chest. He could hear his beating heart and feel each breath. It was nice.

"You're not alone, Keith." 

For the first time in a long time, he felt like he _wasn't_ alone. It gave rise to a new hope, one that made him smile. He gripped the back of Lance's shirt as he hugged him. 

"Yeah, I guess you're right."


End file.
